


Lives of Lies

by minimysterytwins



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 12:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7618984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minimysterytwins/pseuds/minimysterytwins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When you grow up in a house with a professional liar and someone who’s job is less than honest, you’re gonna learn how to lie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lives of Lies

**i.**

His mom called. He didn’t pick up the phone until after the third time she called, and when he’d heard her voice, he’d jumped – was it Sunday already?  
“Sorry, Ma,” he mumbled, squinting at his notebook. “I have my midterms coming up soon. How’re you?”  
She chatted for a bit about Dad, about the shop, about her business. Her voice was sunny, and he relaxed. “How’s Backupsmore?” she finally asked, after they’d finished laughing about one of her clients – “Honest, Stanford, he just wouldn’t quit! I tell the guy he’s destined to marry a fish, and he just sighs an’ tells me, ‘Yeah, sounds about right.’” He had laughed harder than he had in weeks. The desperate ignorance of others never ceased to amaze him.  
He glanced around at his dorm. “Same as ever,” he shrugged. “My roommate keeps playing his banjo before bed. It’s…an experience.”  
“What kind of college would it be if it wasn’t?”  
He could feel her smile over the phone, and he tried not to think about what kind of college it could be. “Look, Ma, I’m sorry, I have to go study. Tell Dad I said ‘hi,’ and I’ll be home for Hanukkah, all right?”  
“All right. Take care of yourself, Stanford. Lord knows you were never good at that part. Neither of you rea—“  
“Goodbye, Ma,” his voice was firm, and he tried not to feel guilty as he slammed down the receiver. The guilt sharpened to anger, and then the anger hardened into resolve, and he tackled the books once again, determined to graduate before sophomore year. He couldn’t stay in such a mediocre place any longer. 

* 

He took a deep, steadying breath as his shaking hand dialed the familiar number. He wound the coil around his finger, pasting on that brilliant, salesman’s grin he’d been honing over the past few months. “Hi Ma!” he kept his voice cheerful, and brushed away her concerns about the span between calls. “Busy life, busy life, on the road,” he told her, and he tried not to think about the mob from the last town. “I’m in West Virginia now,” he added. “Been makin’ decent money, too.” Almost fifteen bucks a week. He coughed. “Turns out, Ford’s not the only one with talent in the family – we coulda been brilliant. He’d make his nerd gizmos, and I’d sell ‘em. It’d – it’d be a good deal, you know?”  
“ Well I’m sure there’ll be time for that in the future.” There was a pause, and then, “I’m worried about you. Are you sure you’re doing all right?”  
“Yeah, ‘course, Ma. Listen, I gotta go, but I’ll talk to ya again real soon, ya hear?” He listened to her farewells, and promised to keep in touch. He never once stopped grinning until he heard the line go dead. 

**ii.**

Fiddleford kept asking where he got his ideas – grandiose plans of a gateway between worlds. He was dismissive, mumbled something about the ‘price of genius.’ Fidds harrumphed, eyes narrowed in suspicion and concern. He brushed him off, returning to his newly finished equations. He knew Fiddleford would never understand. Brilliant as he was, Fiddleford was no genious – not like he was, not worthy of his Muse’s partnership. But soon, he would see. Soon, the whole world would see just how brilliant Stanford Pines could be – would be. All he needed was a few more months. 

*

Rico was still hunting him. He and his goons knew Stan’d escaped the desert, knew he hadn’t paid. They’d already combed the hospital, probably already burned his records. Not that he’d been able to afford staying there longer than two hours anyway – he wasn’t dying, just broke and dehydrated. They knew he was a charity case the moment he stumbled in and collapsed.  
He threw up the hood on his worn jacket and readjusted the strap on his shoulder, his eyes glued to the pavement in front of him. He was running out of time and money, and he knew the next time Rico saw him, if he didn’t have at least double what he owed, he was a dead man –  
“Hey, you! Stop!”  
“Drek,” Hal Forrester swore.  
By evening, everything was new. New name, new scam, new town, new license plate, new tired, young face. When they asked him his name, he grinned and buried Stanley Pines under another lie. 

**between**

Everything was falling apart and it was his fault. If only he’d been smarter…  
If only he weren’t such a screw up…  
Now everything was ending, and neither of them could stop it. 

**iii.**

How do you lie to a telepathic species? Breathe, focus on your intellect and control – your – fear.  
The Being screeched, a sound that shattered any illusion of control he’d managed to scrap together. He felt his mind shred under the force of the mental probe, and it unburied every truth he’d struggled to contain. Human!  
Ford ran.  
He wasn’t fast enough.  
(If he were Stan, would he have escaped? Would he have needed to run? Would he be better?) 

* 

“Welcome to the Murder Hut!”  
“Are you the mad scientist?”  
“You betchya! I’m Stan—ford. Stanford Pines, mad genius extraordinaire!”  
By next month, everything was new – new house, new scam, new town, same tired, young face. When they asked him his name he grinned with his mouth and screamed with his eyes and buried Stanley Pines, the screw up, good-for-nothing idiot in a fiery car crash a few towns over. 

**iv.**

The portal gun was broken. He’d been warned it was shoddy, but dammit, couldn’t he get lucky just once?!  
You used all your luck. You got the good life early on.  
“Hey – you! Stop!”  
“Drek,” the traveler swore, running, running, always running. Finding the cave was a stroke of luck, but the natural fissure in the back? That was a straight-up godsend. He dove through the portal and by morning everything was new – new name, new world, new plan, new wanderer, same tired, worn face. He noticed a familiar poster and buried Stanford Pines under layers of cloaks and an arrogant, confident mask. 

*

The portal was broken, the journals were missing, he wasn’t smart enough for this, dammit, wasn’t enough, period. He was broken, and he was his brother’s only hope. He knew it was a long shot, but dammit, just once, couldn’t things go his way?  
You’ve used up all your luck. You’ve evaded death too long and now Ford’s gonna pay the price.  
“Please, God, I’m beggin’ ya,” Stan muttered. He threw the switch. The portal flickered weakly, then sputtered and died, and Stan felt his mind shred under the force of his self-hate. If he were Ford, he’d be better.  
(If he were Ford, he’d just walk away).

**v.**

Ford was finally ready to die, finally ready to try and defeat Bill, when he heard the familiar vacuum of a void being torn into the fabric of a world. He turned, and there was the swirling blue vortex that had flung him into thirty years of hell. There was little time to wonder at the miracle – he had to get there first. Had to stop Bill.  
He desperately tried to bury the spark of elation he felt at going home.  
He succeeded – mostly. 

* 

Stan had just gotten used to being alone when he heard the news: Dipper and Mabel, his grandniece/nephew he’d only met once at their birth, wanted to live with him for a summer. There were so many reasons to say no – he was a crooked liar, there was the portal, the lies, everything at risk. But Stan Pines was a betting man, a fan of long odds, and too long isolated from a family he still loved. He desperately tried to bury his elation at having a family, finally feeling at home.  
He succeeded – kind of. 

**vi.**

How do you make up for forty years of anger and hate? You don’t. You can’t.  
How do you move on from forty years of desperation and misery?  
They say forgiveness is the key. Forgive yourself, forgive others, and, little by little, leave it behind you.  
Stanford Pines didn’t deserve a second chance. He was a lying, arrogant, paranoid, broken old fool.  
Stanley Pines didn’t deserve a second chance. He was a screw up, stubborn, ignorant, dumb old codger.  
And yet somehow, they forgave each other. Somehow, after forty years of hardship, they were together, on a boat, the most ridiculous, unstoppable team of adventurers. Somehow, after forty years, they could stop lying. Somehow, they began to heal.


End file.
